Memory
by Ignescent
Summary: Maxwell's reign of terror on the island ends when Wilson takes over, leaving Willow to remain on the island scared and confused. She questions if she will be able to snap the new puppet master out of his sadistic reverie, but what sacrifices would she have to go through to regain both of their memories?
1. Remember Me?

"_You know, I always wondered where I'd be now if it weren't for Maxwell."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yes. Perhaps the conclusions for my experiments would be properly completed by now. Or maybe I could've won an award for solving the unsolvable. Either way, something productive could have been made in the amount of time spent here on the island."_

"_At least you have something to look forward to when you get home."_

"_Pardon?"_

"_It's just…I don't know the remains of my neighborhood. The last thing I remember before I left was the fire. One moment everybody was fine, and the next…everything... everything-"_

"_Hush, Willow, don't speak any longer. I do not wish for you to relive your pain."_

"_Thank you…"_

_. . ._

"_Wilson, can I ask you something?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_Promise me we'll go home together and start over again? Just you and me?"_

"_Will it make you happier?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Then I promise."_

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><p><strong>Ignescent here, I'm finally back with another story! I promise to finish up a fanfiction this time (which is hard for me to do but I can try) but who knows how long that will take me considering how slow I write.<strong>

**Please excuse any errors and I'll try to take my time and write up really great chapters for you guys if I have the time. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of its characters. **

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><p>The blizzard showed no signs of receding that cold winter night, nor did the thick snow gathering on top of the girl's frail body. Trees draped over her like a shield; she took shelter in its branches and rendered immobile in the roots.<p>

And she was cold.

Deathly cold.

Her head pounded constantly.

Limbs felt stiff as the ice draped across the trees.

She continued going down the list.

Never in her life had she felt so exposed to the harsh realities of Nature. And yet, even in the snow with thoughts racing through her mind like a raging fire, nothing seemed to warm her. It felt as if she were sinking down onto a wet bed. Without the strength to move even an inch, all she could do was watch and wait.

_Yes, _she decided, _watch and wait for a miracle to happen._ Albeit she doubted any luxury of that kind, she was done for and she knew this. Willow's eyes slowly shut from growing tired at staring at endless white. It was okay, she told herself over and over, it would be okay no matter what, because _he_ promised and he said he would never break his promises (Unless he was lying about that also.).

Her inner conflict continued for minutes at a time – fast paced and not properly digested through. And soon would she find herself beginning to succumb to The Sleep in which she'd never wake up again.

Willow was okay with that.

She thinks she's okay with that.

* * *

><p>Eyes lingered over the body, so beautiful and so weak. He was in love with it, even. Every gluon in his body wanted to embrace her so hard that she could not feel tinges of the cold any longer.<p>

But he didn't, nor did he have the courage to. He was a different man now, or so he seemed. The shadows cackled at him and at her, taunting and teasing with eagerness to continue. The memories of them did not exist anymore, could not. It was not too complicated for an intelligent mind like his to decipher, thankfully, and he planned to fix them another day.

The puppet master kneeled beside the body and touched the face ever so lightly. A curl of his lip issued soon after. Her face was as soft as he remembered it, but one problem arose: he could barely feel her. He had the traits of a ghost or a hologram, being physically unable to touch even the most beloved of components. And perhaps, in another world, he'd laugh at his own mind in which he phrased anything with the word ghost.

"It seems fate has twined our paths together, my dear, and you were caught right in the middle of it." His voice was soft despite the blizzard threatening to cancel him out.

He brushed his thumb over the cheek again, brows furrowing. "You aren't going to nap while there's a guest, are you? How awfully rude…" The man mulled over a plan to aid her – It would be quite terrible for her to not see the King after so long.

"Say pal, you don't look so good," he observed her pale features with curiosity, "I'll make you a deal. I'll save your life just this once and you must give me something in return. Something of importance."

The still figure in the snow said nothing.

"I'd say we have a deal, don't we? I know you don't want to die after all this time; your fruitless efforts were quite pitiful but I believe you're something far greater than that." He stripped off his thick-furred winter coat and wrapped it around the body securely, so if she happened to have any body heat left it would capture. The only top article of clothing that remained was his dapper suit, which fortunately, along with the rewards of being puppet master was not being able to feel the island around him. He accounted the fair trade well.

Wilson Percival Higgsbury took one last look at the fire starter, "We'll meet again soon," and then vanished in a cloud of smoke that quickly dissipated in the heavy snowfall.

* * *

><p>Willow started her day with a huge gasp for air.<p>

She was alive. _She was alive._

Her heart pace quickened at her awakening and her mind had trouble assessing the situation – What. Just. Happened?

Instead of hyperventilating she exhaled with shaky, uneven breaths. A blanket of snow must have suffocated her in the middle of the night if she woke up gasping desperately for air. Or maybe she died and came back to life, but that was too nonsensical to be an option. Besides feeling uncomfortably clammy and soaked, she could feel a cold coming on. _Great_, she sighed. As she continued to brush the snow off her body, she paused in her movement, metaphorically being frozen as the ice around her. There was a jacket, thick and somewhat damp, wrapped around her body like a blanket. She fingered the soft wool attached to the fabric with utter disbelief. Willow knew exactly who this jacket belonged to. It triggered a shudder that crawled up her spine just by thinking of what he could've possibly said or done to her in the middle of the night. He must have wanted her to have it if he just left it there for her.

Seeing as she had no other option but to wear it, she bundled the coat around herself tightly. There was some heat trapped within it but it was fading. She would have to gather some supplies and build a fire fast if she wanted to avoid catching frostbite. With all of the little strength she had left, she grabbed onto branches and pulled herself onto her feet. Such a small task shouldn't be so tedious, she thought to herself as she leaned against the tree for support.

It took eons to remember everything that happened in the past couple weeks. She guessed there was some memory loss involved. She didn't remember how she got stuck in the snow, where she was, nor where her camp was, but only seemed to recognize…him.

Her eyes widened suddenly at the previous thought. "The camp!"

A small portion of her memory clicked; yes, she had a camp somewhere around here!

Excitement rushed through her veins as she discovered new founded energy released in her. The thrill to find her makeshift home comforted her in knowing she wouldn't have to begin from scratch. She started her search in the woodland with eyes squinting over the distance. There were patches of several burnt trees, dried to the final prime of its life and perhaps she was the suspected cause.

After a few minutes of desperate searching, Willow's eyes lit up as she gazed upon crumbling stone walls in the distance. There it was! Lifting her skirt up a few inches, she trod hastily towards the base.

"Cold…cold…_cold_!" She mumbled with teeth clattering and lips forming into different shades of blue. Her hands clumsily traced the cobble walls as she arrived. Upon entry she was able to properly examine the remains of what used to be her base. The camp was still somewhat intact from being abandoned for many months, but it suffered a majority of damage from the deadly four seasons. Fire pit, chests, science machines…

Willow frowned. The science machines.

Her hand stroked the cold, dusty metal with sorrow. The name still lingered on the tip of her tongue. "Science contraption? Alchemy machine? Er…Alchemy engine? Yes, alchemy engine!" Brushing the snow off the top of the machine were the engraved initials of "W.P.H.". She felt as if her heart cracked at the unfortunate reminder.

"Moving on…"

Sighing deeply, she wandered towards the chests, pulled out a few fire starting materials, and worked on creating the flame within the pit. She muttered several curses under her breath as she came across a few problems getting it to ignite, but by the third strike she was finally able to get it burning. Her hands rubbed together in the heat until they were no longer cold. She stopped when she felt a presence behind her.

"Hello, Willow."

For the second time in a day she felt frozen in place. Every bone in her body refused to move even an inch too far, and if another person examined her they would ask if she'd seen a ghost.

"What, no hello in return? I would have least expected one, much less a glance."

Slowly her neck craned to look at him and a small gasp escaped her. His features changed dramatically since the last time she saw him. Dark bags rested under his eyes, most likely due to insomnia, and his skin appeared much paler under the white sunlight. He was dressed in a black suit with a rose in the shirt pocket, similar to Maxwell's.

A grin formed upon his face. "How are you darling? I have to admit, I think we've both changed since the last time we talked."

"W-Wilson…you're…you're-"

"Back? My apologies for not arriving sooner, there were…_others_ I had to take care of."

Willow was stunned at his display. "Does t-that mean you're just like Maxwell now?" Wilson fixed himself beside the girl and tried his best to respond cooperatively to all of her questions.

"In a way, yes. However, Maxwell wasn't using his power to his full extent." He flicked shadows from his hands with a vigor expression. "That's about to change. You see, Willow, while I was trapped on the throne, They told me terrible, beautiful things, and Maxwell was keeping it all to himself!" His voice was beginning to rise and Willow preceded to move away from him.

At her reaction, a softer expression fixed upon the puppet master's face. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not scared," she retorted.

This caused Wilson to laugh out mockingly at the fire starter. "We'll see about that~. In the meantime, I'd like to ask you about that coat you're wearing," he said as he tugged on the fur of his jacket," I believe this is mine, no? How are you enjoying it so far?"

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She almost forgot about his coat.

"U-Uh…" She stuttered gingerly,"I don't need it anymore, it's useless to me." She began to strip the layer off but was interrupted as she noticed Wilson glaring at her with fierce eyes. He seemed to stare right through her as if she were nothing. She felt a pit sink deep in her stomach; why did he get so angry all of a sudden? Even without speaking she could tell that he was absolutely furious at her.

"Oh? My coat that saved your very life? _Unneeded_? I'll have you know, Willow, I could have left you to die out there if I wanted to."

At this point, Willow was no longer distracted by the pretty fire crackling in front of her. Her focus was on the puppet master and him alone. She feared slightly of what he could do to her if she didn't obey him in some way.

"You didn't have to save me."

"Of course I had to. I can't let my lab rat escape that easily, can I? Don't be so preposterous, my dear." Her heart sunk. So he only saved her for his own purposes.

"I'm not being p-preposterous! Wilson, listen to me-"

She paused mid sentence. The man was shaking suddenly like he was a nervous wreck, with trembling hands fumbling over each other in a myriad of unconscious movements. His eyes went full wide, skin still pasty white.

"W-Wilson, are you okay?"

Willow didn't have to wait for his answer because she already knew what it was. Wilson was hiding something. She knew it whenever he fidgeted in nervous manners such as this. But what could he possibly hiding from her that would cause him to react like this? Albeit it gave her some hope in knowing that he still had traits from his old self, she had the heart to worry over him.

"Tell me," she pressed firmly.

He looked straight at her, and for a few moments appeared as if he were switching between the personalities of two different people, before finally settling the inner battle and returning to his intimidating self.

"Tell you what?" He laughed with menace, "About our deal? You still owe me."

Since when did she ever make a deal with this man?

"What _deal_?" She asked with concern. Not one similar to Maxwell's, was it? Oh no…

"Our deal remember? I saved your life and in return you must give me something of importance. Don't tell me you forgot!" Wilson attempted to hold back a cackle but failed. "You were always so forgetful..."

Willow stared down at her hands with shame clouding her mind. Never did she agree to any deal of his. It must have been when she was unconscious the other day, she concluded, which explains how the jacket was wrapped around her as well. That meant because of the deal she would have to be extremely careful with Wilson, just as before the two were with Maxwell. Gingerly she reached out cupped his cheek. He regarded her with genuine surprise but showed no effort to shoo her away in any form.

"What have They done to you, Wilson?" Her voice was scratchy and wavering. Were there tears peeking from her eyes?

In the midst of her sadness did she not notice how strange he felt under her touch. She did not notice his icy cold temperature or the way he felt not fully complete, as if he wasn't all there with her.

Wilson stared intently at her and for a split second she swore she saw somebody else staring back. Her poor Gentleman Scientist, trapped within himself. But like a spark he was gone in a blink, no longer did his past self remain.

"They have done everything to give me what I have now." He gently took her hand away and planted a kiss atop it. "Unfortunately it is my time for my departure my dear. I bid you farewell." And within a few seconds he was gone, just like that. Unbeknownst to him she was stunned, confused, and truly, utterly terrified. She questioned if the entire thing was a reverie of sorts but it all felt too real to mistake. Wilson was really gone.

Willow curled up into a ball and tried not to cry, despite how betrayed she felt. Eventually she gave in and wasn't able to fight back the stream of tears from her eyes. The warm fabric upon her shoulders only made it worse.

She forgot to give his coat back.

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><p>watch?v=47mLY8vX3L0&amp;list=PLJK9vMefc-8Z-luDN8tg4zalOglWoynIt&amp;index=5<p> 


	2. Little Did You Know-

"_Wilson, please, don't do this. You don't know what could happen!"_

"_Look at me, Willow. We've gone this far and we can't just give up now. Don't you want to go home? Isn't that what we both wanted? To go home?"_

"_Yeah, but…not like this, it can't be like this. I don't think that will solve anything!"_

"…_Wilson?"_

"_WILSON! DON'T!"_

_The puppet master only watched helplessly as they neared the lock; shadows cackling with pure excitement. After all this time…_

_Willow lunged at the divining rod clenched in Wilson's hand and the two fought with anger written on their faces. "WILSON! STOP! PLEASE!"_

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><p><strong>Here's chapter 2 of "Memory"! I'm planning on including a flashback for the beginning of every chapter and it will most likely contain their most precious moments or their time before the throne. As for Wilson and Willow's memory, it's a bit complicated because there's some things they don't remember (and the topic is somewhat sensitive) but hopefully it will be clearer as the story goes on. Enjoy!<strong>

**Thanks for the reviews as well! Reviews always encourage me to write more chapters. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of its characters.**

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><p>Never did Willow think she would hate mornings to the ultimate degree.<p>

In the middle of winter they were severe, and she always woke up feeling like a frozen Popsicle under matted hay sheets. That's what caused her to rely more on her massive bonfires for warmth instead of body heat alone. The old tent was still good for use since the last time she inhabited it, but it was now coated in multiple layers of dust, dirt, and had an overwhelming scent of nature. Even though she was its creator, she showed no admiration to it as it sat alone in its corner, going unnoticed throughout the entire day.

Her supply of fuel for the fire was also running dry which meant that she would have to head out again to attend to the task. It would be no problem – all of the trees around her base were burnt and crisp and she'd be able to collect an adequate amount of charcoal.

Heading out into the wilderness with a gold-headed ax, Willow counted all of the cooked trees in the vicinity. Around a dozen; should be enough for a couple of nights… She chopped the barren stalks with ease and looted its remains. She stopped at the last piece when her stomach grumbled. She almost forgot about eating.

Her icebox surely had none left, and if it did it was most likely rotten. Where would she collect food in the middle of winter? Her stomach complained louder and she acknowledged it with a growl. "Okay_, okay_! I'll go find some food…"

Every direction was stripped barren of sustenance and there was no way she could see through the thick forest surrounding her. A hunting and gathering mission was in order. Willow went back to drop off the charcoal and then immediately began digging through her chests. She happened to find some extra gold and sticks and grass, fortunately needed to craft more tools. A backpack would be necessary as well, but that meant she would have to take off Wilson's coat. Her mind pondered of one or the other until she came to a decision.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't need this anymore…"

Willow tossed the jacket onto Wilson's old lab table and immediately shivered at the cold flooding over her arms. Did they have any silk yet?

_Yes, _they did, but it was little. Enough to make only one winter hat that would last her a few weeks give or take. When she finished replenishing her inventory of necessities, it was too late to head out for a hunt. That meant no dinner tonight, much to her despise.

Just in case, she checked the fridge for food and was indeed correct – the only thing inhabiting it was rot. She crunched her nose in disgust and shut the lid. If she could just pull off one more day she'd be fine.

Without taking time to admire the fire, Willow grumpily walked into the tent; if she couldn't eat for another eight hours, she might as well get it over with.

She didn't get any sleep for the rest of the night.

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><p>That morning, her stomach felt like it was going to tear itself apart. Her hand clenched it with pressure. She needed to eat. <em>Now.<em>

She was almost unable to get herself out of the tent and put her gear on. The extreme pains grew worse with each step, but it energized her to find food as soon as possible. Rabbit traps were a good idea as well as some for birds, so she planted them around the walls of the camp. Next came leaving the biome which she found the most ultimate struggle. It was with great perseverance that she pushed to find the things of utmost importance.

Starving wasn't going to be an option today.

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><p>"You would think she would have given up by now," Wilson said with disbelief.<p>

"_She's a fighter. Crush her, kill her," _They urged.

"Perhaps one day, but not now. It's far too early for that. We'll see to her time eventually."

"_You're weak."_

"Maybe so, but I have a plan."

"_You're a liar," _They spat.

"Hush hush, now." And They remained silent.

There he lurked in the shadows of tall evergreens, watching her, observing every move and contemplation until the data was inserted into his mind. The trembling fire starter, lingering on the edge of the woods, walking as broken as an unstrung marionette.

He didn't want to admit it, but he enjoyed studying her. She was such a fascinating creature. If only he remembered who she used to be, because no matter how long he thought about her there would be no reconnection. If only he could manipulate time and turn it back so that he could witness what he once forgot.

He stared closely at her body, exploring through her scars and every little detail blessed among her skin. She was imperfection and he loved it.

But he wanted to destroy her as well. He wanted to follow Their orders and wipe her out; she was such an old experiment. Wilson had new lab rats that were much more interesting to toy with. A speechless mime, a bereaved little girl, and a lumberjack with a secret? Much more interesting than a pyromaniac, and the shadows agreed.

However, he couldn't get rid of her and he didn't know why. There was something about her that made him…tingle, but he didn't know what. That was why he wanted to invest in her. And if They found out about what was truly happening within the overland, Wilson wouldn't live to see the next day.

He chuckled to himself. He was going to beat Them at their own game.

* * *

><p>For the next couple of days he continued to observe her closely. Every angle at which the sun hit her, every little decision she made, and he had come to a conclusion.<p>

Willow was incredibly upset. He didn't know who she was angry at but it didn't take an intelligent scientist like himself to know that it was mostly at herself. He planned to confront her about it later.

"Curse this stupid island, curse Wilson, curse everything!"

Did he just hear his name somewhere? He peeked from the darkness of the shadows; yes, it was summoned by Willow. She was bundled by the fire pit and was clenching a piece of charcoal in her fist. It smeared black marks onto her palm, some edges cutting her flesh and drawing blood. She didn't notice as she slammed the coal into the flame.

"Say pal, you don't look so good."

Willow's nails dug into the log, face pale as the snow she trekked in as she turned to look at the sudden voice.

"Wilson, don't scare me like that." She rubbed her sore hands soothingly, "I'm just fine."

He raised a brow in disbelief. "Your hands say otherwise. Why are you so angry, Willow?"

Angry? She was angry? She didn't necessarily believe that it was anger that was causing her to act so brutally upon herself and the camp. Now that she was more focused on the topic, the lacerations on her palm stung more noticeably from the brisk winter wind. She winced at the pool of blood forming in her cupped hands.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Huh?"

He sighed. "There really is something wrong with you," the man replied with some seriousness, "but that does not mean I am going to stop pretending to be your own personal therapist until you tell me what's wrong."

Therapist? Those..those people…Her parents took her to see therapists all the time when she was younger.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

Wilson grabbed her wrists with sudden force causing her to cry out in shock. He threatened to twist them in a way that could intentionally sprain them. The blood on her hands spilled onto his skin and splattered his clothing.

"What are you doing?!" She screeched. He refused to let go.

"W-Wilson stop, you're hurting me!" She wailed as she tried to detach herself from him.

Even though it felt as if her wrists were twisting on their own, she knew that wasn't the case. This man had another personality – a cold, heartless, unforgiving one. And she didn't like it at all.

They had a stare-down that lasted minutes and Wilson was the victor. He contorted her wrists so far back that it forced a tear to slip from her eyes. "Please let me go," she begged.

The moment she started crying he let go, but it was unknown if pity was the reason. He gave her time to examine what he did to her. Wilson didn't completely understand why he hurt Willow, nor why he didn't stop himself when she was ordering him to. Neither did he feel affected by her pain. He unconsciously bit his lip. Did he _enjoy_ this? Hurting her until she cried? It…it felt so-

He stopped his thinking when he heard a sniffle come from the fire starter. Curious, he looked to see her massaging her tender wrists with vigilance, all because of his attack on her, because he would have crushed her like a bug if it weren't for that tingling feeling, and if it was not for that familiar sensation of warmth that made his heart rise whenever he looked at her. If only They explained it to him. He snickered inwardly; _They wouldn't. _

Back to Willow – she was crying more now, and taking more deep breaths as her cheeks grew puffy from wetness. She was like a child who dropped a scoop of her ice cream. He'd never seen her cry before. It was an entirely new experience to him. Was he feeling…_guilty_ from all this? No, can't be, couldn't be. It must be some other emotion toying with him. Emotion cannot get in the way of science. Not on his terms it won't.

"Willow."

She wiped away some tears and turned to face the other way.

"Willow," he repeated again.

Now she wasn't responding to him at all. "You're mad at me aren't you? I did what I had to do, you know. For science. It's nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you still need to answer my question."

Willow continued to ignore him. Fine, let her think what she wanted to. He would just have to visit her again when she wasn't being so hotheaded. And of course, for his sake and Theirs.

Wilson leaned over and bestowed her with a kiss to the top of her head. She flinched under his touch. "Remember our deal, sweetheart."

He got up to leave and then with a quiet tone added, "And stop being so angry all the time."

But before he could snap his fingers and disappear in a cloud of smoke, she stopped him with an oddly familiar insult, "_You're an idiot._"

His eyes narrowed. _An idiot, huh?_

"Oh, so now you speak to me."

"I don't want you to go," she admitted with a wavering voice that faltered.

"But I hurt you."

"You're my only company."

"And?"

"I want you to stay with me. Just for the night and then you can leave forever if that's what you want." Wilson scoffed at the latter notion. "Stay with me, just for tonight. Please."

The puppet master stared at the girl, deciding his decision with every possible outcome that were to happen if he stayed. She gazed up at him with misty, expectant eyes. Guiltiness, there it was, hiding in his heart for this moment and this moment alone.

"Will it make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll stay with you."

He had a feeling of déjà vu and Willow noticed it too. Both stared at each other, aghast, but Willow was the first to let the familiarity go. Instead of questioning it, she moved away to fetch something. Upon examination he could see that in her hands was a bundle of carrots and several honey bandages, most likely for her hand. That's right, it was still cut and welted from the charcoal.

The couple sat in silence as Willow layered the honey coated bandages on her cuts. She stuck her tongue out in disgust and Wilson laughed a real laugh for what felt like in forever.

When she finished and the bandages were securely wrapped around her palm, she began to snack on one of the carrots. They sat in bliss, both comfortable by the silence that issued. For the first time in a long time they felt happy. Like nothing in the world couldn't take their moment away from them, and Wilson made sure that none would. Not even Them.

_Wait, what was he saying?!_

He didn't even notice Willow resting peacefully against his shoulder. The expression of lethargy after a long day was distinct on her face until she fell asleep. She snored slightly which he found cute – he pinched himself after thinking that – and couldn't stop himself from brushing his thumbs over her swollen wrists.

After losing his mind that evening, he finally came to a conclusion. He was supposed to reveal his plan by the time night arrived but she slept before she could give him the chance.

He wanted her to find him; that she _must_ find him for hidden reasons to himself. It was urgent enough for him to have concerns. He wanted to see if she could withstand what adventure he had in store for her. To see what really crushed her, and who or what can bend her so far she'll snap.

All in the name of science.

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><p>watch?v=2Ie2vnYbOXo<p> 


	3. Doors

"_Willow, please, I must do this."_

"_No, I-"_

_He wrenched the divining rod from her grip._

_With a firm click it became one with the lock._

_The ground began to shake violently; they heard laughter, unknown vibrations traveled in waves past their ears…_

_Willow's eyes went wide as she and Wilson looked down at the rumbling ground below them. Slowly the king's chair ceased into nothingness…_

…_And then the throne that once belonged to Maxwell was no more; he was the one who laughed at them. _

"_I'M FREE!" _

_Laughing, so much laughing-_

"_I'M FINALLY FREE!"_

_Willow fumed with anger and disbelief towards the scientist. Wilson's mouth opened to apologize when a shrilling, blood curdling scream interrupted him.  
><em>

_The puppet master's skin and flesh was stripped from his bones; both Willow and Wilson gagged at the revolting sight. _

_Maxwell's skeleton dissipated into dust that drifted into the darkness, and he was gone. Dead silence arose throughout the barren court. _

_In the empty space formed a new throne; bigger, darker, sharper._

_Then They took Wilson. They purged and manipulated his memories. They rid him completely of his past life._

_What was left of Willow was disregarded and sent back to the Hell._

_They found a new ruler for Their kingdom; oh, how delighted the feeling was! A fresh, new start for more victims._

_They moved around, eyeing him with satisfaction. He was deemed worthy by Themselves alone._

_Wilson stared down at his lap, stricken with shock and grief, as he sat stuck to the throne.  
><em>

_All the while the creatures in the darkness cheered on. _

_Deep in the shadows chants could be heard, "All Hail the King!" _

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of its characters. <strong>

* * *

><p>Chapter 3. Doors<p>

The Gentleman Scientist was gone when she woke up, just as she predicted he would. His coat was missing from the lab table she set it on; she knew that would happen, too.

Willow felt groggier than usual, perhaps by sleeping exposed in the wilderness with an empty stomach and without proper warmth. She focused on clearing its queue when it grumbled. _Eating vegetables didn't taste so bad when you're starving_, she esteemed as she took bites of her stale, unfinished carrots from the previous night. She was going on an adventure today.

Risky as it seemed she was bored, and she was rather cold, and if she were to be bored and cold in a place of refuge than it might as well be in wilderness with new sights, because it didn't matter to her here. The risk of dying wasn't an idea much less a thought in her mind.

She packed a weeks worth of food into her backpack along with fire-starting materials and other necessities that could be important while gone. The weight of her bag felt a tad under heavy and it tilted her spine due to the weight. If she could just hunch her shoulders so that she wouldn't develop back problems in the near future, then everything would work out just fine.

Today, Willow rolled the dice and headed out in a different, obscure direction. Her hunger for new sights excited her to see scenery that wasn't just an endless snowstorm. She thanked herself for remembering to bring winter hats and a cozy thermal stone for the journey ahead. It wasn't like her to remember little things, especially since…

She frowned and stopped thinking. There was no reason to go on.

The further she traveled the more the snow grew deeper and it was harder for her to walk. She had to take giant steps in order to avoid falling over, and the snow felt incredibly cold around her ankles. Her boots weren't meant for trekking, after all. It was like walking with Popsicle sticks.

Willow didn't know exactly what she was expecting to find in the woods. Food, more grass and twigs, maybe. The run-of-the-mill essentials. She was in a completely different forest than the one her base was settled in. This one was far more thicker and consisted of evergreens that grew branches so elongated it draped over her head. She sneezed when a blanket of snow fell on her from above, and she grumbled something in complaint.

She walked and walked, muscles burning, until a structure stopped her in her path. Curved stone with markings on the slab. She swallowed the knot in her throat; it was a gravestone. With shaky, nervous hands she slowly uncovered the snow from its rough, chalky surface. The crooked words slathered on made her sick.

"Hey, that's my name…"

Written on the headstone was the name _Willow_, spelled exactly letter by letter in cursive, childlike handwriting.

This had to be one of Wilson's jokes, she was sure of it. Anxiously she chuckled, stood up, brushed the snow from her hands. Dark humor made her giggle.

"How funny, Wilson! You sure got me there!"

No reply.

The longer she stared at her name the more _lost_ she felt. It sent tingles up her spine. Cold, sharp winds sliced at her cheeks and her hands unconsciously moved up to rub at her arms. The thermal stone in her backpack must be running out because no longer did she feel the secure warmth on her back. Time was running out.

It was with the remaining strength she had left that was used to keep on traveling.

"This is such a bad idea_, why did I do this_?"

Willow felt as if she were possessed – as if her mind was leading her to someplace. Like she was playing the role of a puppet with someone telling her where to go, what to do. But she couldn't stop herself. Nothing in her head told her that going out in the middle of the winter was a good idea.

Walking, walking, walking, on and on until every limb succumbed to the cold and she could not feel them any longer. Where was she going?

Now she was in the more somber portion of the woods. Willow lost track of where she was hours ago. Trees with faces welcomed her to their domain, mimicking like guardians of the forest. Devilish versions of once effervescent flowers scattered around like hungry ants in a nest, everywhere, driving her slowly insane. And she grew tired of it - wanted to stop and rest forever so her bones would stop complaining.

Then finally he came to her from the shadows, smiling with innocence, taking pleasure from her pain on the sly.

"My my, look who we have here? If it isn't my dear Willow. Say pal, y-"

"You don't look so good," she finished with gritted teeth.

Over his shoulders was the coat he once lent to her, and she couldn't help but admit how nice it fitted on him. Then she remembered how it once belonged to Maxwell and she frowned. More fuel to rage her anger towards him, she guessed.

"Oh love, angry are you? Let out your fire; I have a gift for you and now is no time for such emotions. We need to celebrate!~"

Her brow raised, "Celebrate for what?"

Wilson pulled a conveniently lit pipe from his pocket and inserted it into his mouth.

"For your little adventure, of course! Can't you feel the excitement coursing through your veins? This is such a great opportunity!"

He puffed smoke into her face and she coughed hysterically. She had to take a couple steps back to remove herself from the cloud of tobacco she was trapped in. The aroma almost made her gag.

With misty, irritated eyes she glared at him, "An adventure? What adventure?"

The man of science rolled his eyes in a sarcastic manner, "You'll see soon enough."

"But why not-"

"Enough questions!" He snapped suddenly with sharp, baring teeth, "We don't have much time, and with you asking so many frivolous questions we'll never get on with it!"

He put the pipe away once his needs were satisfied. Her silence let a grin slip across his lips.

"Good. You see, my dear, I was the one who led you here."

That explained why she felt so manipulated.

The puppet master gestured with his hand for her to follow as he walked through rows of pine trees. Willow pursued after him, his entity somewhat sparking her interest.

Her hair constantly snagged onto the leaves and she growled as she tugged on her twin tails with impatience. If her guest wasn't here, she would have burnt down the forest by now. At the hinting of her lighter, she grazed her fingers over her pocket and then sighed in relief – the bulge in her pocket was still there.

After converting through the leafy mess, the pair stood in a desolate cirque. Well, a cirque not _quite_ so empty.

In the center stood a door or a portal of some kind, resembling a familiar face on its design. An abundance of evil flowers crowded around it, and surrounding them was a tight circle of trees. If it weren't for Wilson she doubted she would've found this place.

"What's this?"

"This," he said with a widening smile, "is the answer to all of your questions."

"This…_thing_?"

"My door, to be precise."

Mind full of hesitance, her hand reached out to stroke the wood of the machine; she fingered the metal that lined up in some spots and studied the intricate designs closely. This seemed all too familiar for her to comprehend. Perhaps she'd been here before. Visited this place in a dream, maybe.

He didn't let her finish examining the foreign structure; with an urgent voice he spoke, "Come, Willow, you must do this."

"This could be a trap," she declared and stepped back.

Wilson already tricked her once, who said he wouldn't trick her twice? Even if he seemed soft as a pillow one moment and hard as a rock the next, he was still the ruler of this island. Nothing he said could be trusted. For all she knew he could be leading her to her demise.

"You want to go home, don't you?"

His question saved her from her raging sea of thoughts and shielded her against the waves.

"…Home?" The word tasted sweet on her tongue.

His lip curled ever so slightly, "Pull the lever and find me."

Willow gulped, eyed the crank as if it were poison, slowly approached with caution. Manipulation and puppetry was what he was coveting for.

"_Do it!_" his voice urged.

She was not aware of what would happen if she pulled it, nor what was beyond this door. But if Wilson wanted her to find him then she would not back down from his challenge.

Carefully, the fire starter pulled on the lever. The machine whirred with life, and the puppet master laughed maniacally.

"See you on the other side!" He bowed down sarcastically and then vanished in smoke.

"What?! Wilson? Where did you go?!" She began to panic; he tricked her!

"_Come back__!_"

She clenched her fists, and her thoughts soared with what consequences were to come.

Then something grabbed her.

Their dark, shadowy hands reached from the earth and clung to her limbs, digging deep into her flesh, pinning her down towards the ground.

"No! No!"

The will to fight slowly diminished as she slipped into darkness.

There was no use in struggling. She was already gone.

* * *

><p>Falling. She was falling.<p>

Gravity pulled her into an endless abyss, dragging her through a pitch black void, feeling like nothing for a matter of minutes.

Whether her eyes were opened or closed it didn't matter. There was nothing to neither see nor hear. Was she…_dead_? No, she couldn't be.

Finally Willow's body found purchase and a huge breath of air escaped. The last of the oxygen in her lungs disappeared from the fall; she couldn't breathe. She laid there similarly to a dying animal, with her chest barely rising, and sores aching from her head to her toes. There were a countless number of things she felt, but alive was not one of them.

And everything stung like bug bites - her organs could have been mashed together into a bloody, gooey consistency and she wouldn't know.

Ouch.

The pyromaniac opened her eyes, only to be blinded by the greeting of the morning sun. Then a shadow cast over her; a man peered down and studied her features with glee.

"Thank Newton, I'm glad you made it! You had me worried there for a second! It took you a long time to get here, you know."

She tried to move but every bone felt chopped endless.

"A-Agh…"

She prayed she didn't break anything. Now that would be extremely unfortunate.

"You know, you look a bit troubled." His eyes glinted with a sadistic curiosity, "Let's see if you can handle this thing called a challenge, shall we?"

Wilson's smile broadened at her pain. What a pitiful creature! If his plan worked out perfectly, then all of his time studying her, taking notes of her strengths and weaknesses, would be worth it. It was now her turn to finish the puzzle he started.

"Find four of my special things and you'll be rewarded." He turned back to leave, then added quietly, "If you survive, that is," and retreated without another word.

After Wilson's departure, she felt free again. Her body didn't ache like it did minutes ago. It was like his presence pinned her to the ground, and so when he left the power that was controlling her left with him.

She flexed her fingers and then sighed in relief – they still worked. Willow sat up and took in the world around her.

Then suddenly her eyes flew open and she scrambled back; a single spider, lurching to take a bite out of her. With her heel she crushed the arachnid's skull with a single blow. Guts and slime oozed onto her shoe and splattered onto her leg.

"Disgusting!" She pinched her nostrils at the putrid aroma that lingered in the air.

However, that wasn't the only spider. There were hundreds more, producing, colonizing. Everywhere she turned - humongous dens towered over her, drenched in clumps of silk and sludge.

Surely she couldn't survive in a world with such hellish conditions. Wilson must be insane to have simply tossed her into a world where the chances of survival were slim and starvation was a key factor.

Well, he _did_ do that anyway.

She tried her best to ignore the homes of hundreds, perhaps thousands of spiders as she explored the vicinity she was spawned into. All dens sat in a gathering with a ring around a center piece. The smell was almost unbearable. Even when she wandered away was it no different than standing right next to it. They were _everywhere_.

Willow hiked aimlessly through the woods, picking up twigs and grass along the way. She still had her lighter though; she could feel it beating in her pocket. Maybe Wilson pitied her and let her have her prized possession in these times of darkness.

_Ugh, I wish I knew what was wrong with you, Wilson._

She flicked on her lighter and began burning down clumps of trees.

_You seem so familiar to me sometimes, and I don't know why that is, but I promise that I'll figure this all out. _

She used one of her flint to make an ax. Every chop made a withered tree scream as its charcoal fell onto the floor.

_It's like you have two sides and I don't know which to believe. You can be so confusing at times, you know that?_

Willow collected its remains and continued on her quest.

_I see you stare at me from the corner of my eyes and you're different – can you sense the familiarity too?_

A shake of her head followed. Dusk was about to arrive soon.

She struggled to fit all of her items into pockets, so she gathered them within the hem skirt.

_You're in pain. It doesn't take an expert to tell. I wish I knew what was wrong with you._

* * *

><p>Willow used what daylight she had left to gather food and other materials, but flint seemed to be the least adequate. There would be one here and there, hiding behind trees and rocks, but she figured it was part of the puzzle.<p>

She huddled by the fire, small and boring, with eyes darting anxiously around her. The fear of a loose spider leaping from the darkness and biting her made her cringe. She could hear hisses off in the distance – it made her skin feel itchy.

Unbeknownst to her, a spider bite was going to be the least of her worries.

A couple arachnids weren't enough to do major harm to her, right? The mammal-sized creatures here were unlike anything that ever existed back in the real world. And she didn't even want to get started on the warrior-specified ones.

Then out of the blue, there was a beep

Then another, and another, coming from a bundle of items on the ground.

"What's that?"

She dug through her inventory, her brow raised as it examined a divining rod. _It must be making some kind of noise_.

"Weird, I don't remember picking this up…"

The noises coming from the speakers were soft and weak. To her, it looked like a Voxola PR-76 radio head attached to a stick. She swore she saw the radio before, but the thought was shrugged off. After a long day, Willow was tired. She forgot all about the arachnids swarming the land. Soon she succumbed to sleep as the tiny fire crackled beside her.

...If only these foreign things were to explain themselves to her.

She supposed she could only ask them when the time was right.


	4. Doors pt 2

_Lost in the meadow two figures lie, both in a deep sense of serenity, their attentions focused on the ring of petals in each of their hands._

"_Hey, look, I finished," she smiles as she proudly holds the garland up to the scientist's face._

_He acknowledges it with a grin, "Very beautifully crafted, my dear, but can it compete against…this?"_

_He reveals his own garland, it being much more colorful and prettier than hers. Wilson obviously spent careful time crafting his through, and she couldn't stop the crimson waves rising in her cheeks. How embarrassing._

"_Aw, that's no fair."_

"_How so?"_

"_You obviously cheated on yours!" Her brows furrowed as he waved it around her tantalizingly._

_She huffed and crossed her arms, annoyed by his magnificent display. _

_Suddenly, she felt leaves poke at her hair, causing her attention to refocus on the man of science. _

_Wilson gingerly placed the garland atop her head, smiling with sincerity, "A beautiful crown for my queen."_

_Her blush deepened._

_Willow returned the favor and gifted Wilson the crown of her own, the petals crisp from the licks of fire._

"_And for my king."_

_He brushed away her bangs with his thumb and slowly kissed her forehead._

_They leaned against each other, limb over limb, their senses dulling to a close as the spring zephyr brushed through their hair and patted light raindrops against their cheeks…_

* * *

><p><strong>Hello, I'm sorry for the long wait! I've been busy with finals and homework so I haven't had time to write up this chapter. Because of that, the story may seem a bit rushed because I wanted to finish this as quickly as possible, so my apologies. :)<strong>**  
><strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews so far! I really appreciate it!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of its characters. **

* * *

><p>Spider dens, everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Willow was appalled. She refused to admit that she was deathly afraid.<p>

She tried setting the forests aflame but to no luck. The trees could only spread out so far, and they weren't enough to destroy the ones located in other biomes. There simply weren't enough flammables to spread around.

Getting close to them wasn't well enough for an option, either. These arachnids were extremely territorial creatures. Any unfortunate animal caught in the clutches of its web was dead meat. Willow recalled having stepped in an abandoned rabbit hole covered with its sticky webbing; she almost ended up as spider food that night. The strenuous tugging on her ankle left it sore for days.

As for finding the so-called things, she was beginning to get a lead on this puzzle. The divining rod was the key to finding the things – it led her straight towards them. After discovering that useful little secret, some of the burden was lifted off her shoulders.

And within a week was she able to find three of them. She remembered Wilson saying that there were specifically four pieces, but then what of them after? What would acquiring these things accomplish? What sort of machine would she have to build this time?

Willow sighed to herself. This task was extremely stressing her out.

"I suppose he wouldn't have made this puzzle too easy for one to solve."

It took her ages to finally get a lead. Apparently, there wasn't just one island full of disgusting arachnids, but _six_. After hours of traveling wormhole by wormhole she finally caught on to each of the different islands and its resources. That was how she found the things, after all, not to mention all of the hard work she put into finding it. Boy, a long break sure sounded like music to her ears.

Willow looked at the divining rod for guidance as she wandered through the marshland. Its repetitive beeps were growing stronger with each step.

"This thing is getting noisier…"

She waved it around in several directions, contemplating her next move. More beeps ensued and her face lit up with an ambitious grin.

"I must be getting closer!"

Now the chase was on for the final piece; Time was a precious aspect. Surviving a week of snacking on raw berries and suffering minor insomnia due to wandering spiders in the night, Willow strived to complete her quest. Only then could she finally rest, and perhaps have peace in knowing she completed a seemingly impossible task. Assuming she acquired all four things, of course. _Why was this so hard?_

The idea of making something unspeakable made her spine tingle. She was confident about this. Would Wilson grant her a visit if she did, she wondered? Maybe he was keeping an eye on her from afar, to keep track of her progress. It wasn't unlike him to do so. She refused to admit that she would sometimes catch his shadow in the corner of her eye, staring impassively, but now it didn't seem so ludicrous. This was _Wilson_ after all, the Wilson who used to be her friend, her loyal partner, her equal. Gradually she remembered the little things; they revealed themselves to her in the forms of dreams. One by one, her memories came back, but remarkably slowly.

The man on the throne was Wilson P. Higgsbury - the very same scientist who observed their companionship similar to ones of 'a covalent bond's'.

She was close to him_, _but nothing too close.

She recognized the feeling of lips upon skin, warm hands covering body.

Nothing _too_ close.

It didn't seem...strange, to her surprise. It felt familiar, but what if, somehow, it was just a lie? What exactly was she experiencing? Willow desperately begged for someone to tell her what was wrong with her. Albeit, there was no one... If only...

Willow picked up the pace.

The fire starter sprinted through the swamp as the divining rod's screams wailed throughout the biome. Adrenaline continued to rush through her veins with unearthed panic.

"Where is it?!"

In the midst of her ire, Willow lost purchase beneath her feet and tripped. She slammed face first onto the moist ground. Her ears rang and her head throbbed with pain; the slimy flora stained her skin with bloody scrapes that trickled down her arms. Her twin tails lacked structure and lost their midair positions. They now hung freely against her back like vines.

"A_-Agh, that's disgusting!_" She wiped away the mucus that found its way to her lips, and stood up with shaky legs that suffered abrasions from tattered leggings.

The wounds stung like insect bites, and her eyes darted everywhere, seeking for the last part.

"_Where is that damn thing?!_" Her vicious, crazed appearance made her look like a rabid animal. Per say, a quite _insane_ animal with flames licking at her feet.

Willow was about to give up hope – and most likely collapse in the heat of exhaustion and stolen faith – when her eyes spotted something over the distance.

It was a rickety pig house under a small patch of savanna turf. Leafless trees decorated beside it added an eerie appearance. What little hope that was tossed away replenished. She found the energy to run again, even if she wasn't in shape to.

She stumbled onto the dead, yellow grass with exhaustion. There it was – the final thing, resting untouched in the center of a ring of evil flowers. She crouched down to pick it up when all of a sudden, a pig-man jerked her away and grabbed it before she could.

"Hey! Give that back you loathsome swine! That crank belongs to me!"

It oinked something in response as it continued to ignore her protests. It seemed interested in it; she pondered if it even knew what its purpose was. For all she knew, this pig could possibly mistake it for food if it happened to have lacked smarts.

"Are you even listening? I said give it back!" Willow yelled louder this time, causing the pig's attention to refocus on her.

"Me no like mean girl-"

"Yeah? Well, I don't like _you_ either. Hand it over, pork chop."

Her impatience was overflowing. She didn't come all this way just to be stopped by a stubborn swine who refused to give her her desired scrap of metal. For whoever knew what this thing did anyway-

Willow raised her axe and aimed to strike, "You'll be sorry, piggie!"

With all the energy she had left, she swung at the pig with exhilarating force. The blade sunk into its tough skin, it dropped the item with a pained squeal. She grinned as she snatched the fallen item.

"Sucks to be you," she taunted as she examined the crank thing with pride.

And then she was on the floor again.

She looked back up, startled and out of breath from the impact, on the pig who impended its attacks on her. This animal was toying with her in such a mischievous way. Willow clutched onto the crank thing as she turned from the pig man and ran. The clock was ticking and she couldn't afford to waste any more time. Her heart was beginning to hurt with each pump of blood, and her head buzzed with thoughts, and she wasn't able to take it anymore.

As soon as she reached land away from the swamp, her knees immediately collapsed and she toppled onto the grass like a fallen tower. The earth was cold beneath her skin while she was growing hot; Willow liked to assume it was because she was an entity of fire, but knew the truth otherwise. She wished for Wilson to tell her what to do next. What mission to carry out afterwards, any special tasks he wanted her to complete, anything that would fulfill his promise of getting herself home.

Here she was, longing for more dangerous quests while she was buried on top of the ground like a broken marionette. All of this just to go home.

* * *

><p>"Willow."<p>

She mumbled something in response.

"Willow, wake up."

She felt a hand grasp her shoulder, and her eyes opened. Everything was blurry, but she could still make out the silhouette of a man hovering over her.

"Wilson, is that you?"

She watched as he stood up and began to walk away from her. He headed into the forest and didn't look back. She propped herself onto her elbows and then cupped her hands around her mouth, "Wilson, stop, wait for me!"

Willow ran after him.

The luminescent light from the full moon encompassed the forest in a crystalline hue; the cold winds sliced at her skin as she followed the scientist, curious as to where he was going. She relied on the moonlight peeking down from the leaves as her guide. Somewhere off to the distance, a chorus of crickets, along with blankets of fireflies dancing in the trees.

"Wilson! Wait!"

He was running too fast for her liking, and she struggled to keep an eye on his dark shadow as they played a game of chase through the woods. She kept calling out to him but silence was her only reply.

Many times did she smack into loose branches and spiky bushes. Alas, her body did not feel pain at all, but she could only watch with regret as Wilson slowly disappeared from her view.

"Wait…Come back…please." She came to a halt at a lining of silver evergreens. Willow grasped onto their thickened leaves and pulled them back so she could progress with ease. For many minutes did she do this and saw nothing, until finally, when she was about to give up hope and turn back, she came across an open clearing. Wilson stood several yards away from her, his body completely shadowed and unrecognizable. His back was turned to her, as if she was unwelcomed.

_What is this place?_

There was a massive biome decorated with statues and pillars, with a settling of strange mechanical creatures that slept peacefully under the light of the moon. In the center was a weird looking wooden piece that lay barren. It called out to her in ways she thought she was beginning to lose her mind – _fix me, fix me. _

Willow gingerly approached Wilson, afraid that he would shy away from her again if he saw her. But, instead of running away, the puppet master only turned around to meet her face.

"Greetings, my dear."

The fire starter gasped as he clenched a hand onto her shoulder.

"_It's time to wake up._"

* * *

><p>The fire starter cradled her head in her hands as she rocked back and forth by the fire, "It was just a bad dream, just a bad dream…"<p>

At first, she thought he was playing with her. Trying to lure her into another one of his traps. But after hours of mindless thinking and deciphering, she came to a conclusion. Wilson was trying to show her something.

When she woke up that morning, she was utterly dumbfounded to find a garland placed atop her head, still flourished with the prettiness of dying petals. Willow tried to blame it on something else, but she knew that it had to be Wilson's doing. She was insane, after all…but why would he help her? Didn't he want her to suffer? Wasn't that the point of any of this?

She came up with a plan amidst her thinking, and today she was going to stick to it.

With all four things in her grasp, Willow retraced her steps. She went back into the forest, back through the thickening pines, following the path that Wilson showed her in her dream. It was all familiar to her, this forest, and the daylight certainly helped her. There were the thorns that scratched at her legs and the tree roots she almost twisted her ankle on, all here and in the same places. It was most certainly a sign. Wilson was trying to show her something.

Her breath held to the moment she made it to the clearing. As expected, there were the lively chess monsters, wandering aimlessly around their home, and the thing she had been searching there all this time sitting right in the middle of them.

_Okay, Willow, all you have to do is get these pieces attached together and bam! Wilson will let you go home. This didn't seem so hard after all…and I hope I get my questions answered._

Willow took a deep breath as she mulled over several tactics with the rooks. Earlier, she had picked up a spear from an unfortunate…_visitor_ she found lying around. That, along with battered down beefalo wool and a hat, though she didn't know what to do with it and ended up using it as fuel for a fire instead. At the very least, she had a weapon and was very intent on using it.

As soon as a spot opened around the wooden thing, she ran. The clockwork rooks were the first to notice her attack, and responded immediately with no sign of mercy. Willow dodged and it hit one of the knights, attracting the two into their own battle. _There was her chance!_

All she had to do was repeat this process several more times until they died; her spear managed to break along the way from all the endless drumming she did on their metal plates. Willow was victorious once again!

"Hah…serves you right to try and challenge me!" she said as she pressed her foot down onto the broken clockwork.

Willow ignored the prizes from the battleground as she approached the final piece with glinting eyes. She ignored the spiderlings that began to approach from their nests.

One by one, she attached each of the things to their proper places. Upon completion, the contraption formed the face of someone she found very amusing.

"Very funny, Wilson." Willow snorted at the face the potato thing merged into.

She became more serious now, and could feel the bile rising in her throat. She was done with this world. She was eager to meet Wilson. She was eager to go home. Minutes flew by before she did anything, and with courage, she moved forwards and unloaded her tools. Willow took a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing." The pyromaniac activated the machine.

x

_End of World 1_


End file.
